


agápe || ushiten

by introspectivebeet



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Malnutrition, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introspectivebeet/pseuds/introspectivebeet
Summary: agápe (n): empathetic, universal love. A love mutual between Eita and Satori, a love that should have come from Wakatoshi, a love that only ends in heartache.FIC SOUNDTRACK: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tW7r8GPXf85PJeotMgjd4?si=OnOIf8H5SbuoB5P5G5v4ZA
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	1. chapitre un

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that i do not view ushijima wakatoshi as abusive. this is purely fictional.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

“What does that matter to you?”

“I mean you are my fiance, Satori.”

“I’m your fiance but are you really mine? Have you ever shown me any semblance of love? Were any of your words ever genuine?”

“Ah, but this whole time you meant nothing to me. You were nothing more than a toy, crafted perfectly for my amusement. You were akin to the dirt on the soles of my shoes, in my eyes.”

_ “Va te faire foutre, bȃtard.” _

“You wish you could, don’t you?”

Satori wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of the other man’s face, but he knew he was completely powerless in his presence. It was true- he did wish he could fuck him- because that had always been the nature of their relationship. They fought and fought and fought and it always ended up with Satori under the stronger man, pleading for him to go easier, begging him for mercy to no avail.

Before he actually thought it through, Satori spat at the other man, hitting him square between the eyes.   
  
He was fucked now- if he had ever hoped for a chance of escaping this relationship, the constant abuse, he just ruined them, snuffed them out like a cigarette against concrete.

_ “Warugaki.” _

Just like that, Satori’s head hit the metal door behind him, being picked up and slammed against it with more force than anything this relationship had ever involved- that’s to be expected of a former volleyball star, right? Everything being filled with so much power that it had the capacity to kill him.

Satori shuddered at his next thought, in a flurry of dizziness and tears and screaming and blood trickling from both sides of his head- he realized that it might just kill him this time. That it was always a possibility that he died at the hands of the man he loved, the man he kept running back to time and time again because the way he felt love made him risk taking a bullet even if the trigger was pulled by the man he risked everything for.

Love was such an intense thing for Satori- love made him give up all of his dreams, made him return to Japan without a second thought though he truly fell in love with France and wanted to open a shop there, love made him a dutiful housewife, love sent him to the hospital countless times, love was chalked up to him “just being clumsy” and making him a total mess.

Satori took a breath and realized that no, this wasn’t love, love was something that took two to create, so what was this? Some teenage infatuation that grew to the point of insanity? Was he truly insane? By the words of Albert Einstein he was, for he keeps running back and retrying the same things over and over hoping for a better result but getting the same thing every time, sometimes worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

The blood from Satori’s nose trickled into his mouth as he tried to further disconnect from reality, to disassociate yet again as he was assaulted by the man many thought could never do wrong, the man admired by the media, the man who could easily get anyone he wanted so why was he still obsessed with Satori?

If Satori wasn’t good enough, why did Wakatoshi keep him like a pet? Was Satori just that fun to watch shatter beyond repair? What happened to his Waka-kun, the one who held his face so gently, the one who whispered French back to him when Satori decided to start learning in high school, the one who kissed him so passionately the day he confessed?

_ It’s my fault. I broke him, and now he’s breaking me. _

Satori thought back to the nights he spent away from Wakatoshi, thought back to the countless angry texts and the countless times he was blown off because  _ clearly you think your petty chocolate dream is more important than me. _

It wasn’t, Satori had always told him, but he usually got cussed out and hung up on.

It’s Satori’s fault, he’s sure of it, so he lies there like a ragdoll, like the perfect toy Wakatoshi wanted, while Wakatoshi took all of his anger out on his unconsenting body.

He had always been called a worthless monster anyways, and this was just the last evidence he needed to confirm it. He had always believed it, but he had thought that maybe if Wakatoshi disagreed, he would be okay. 

That isn’t the case, quite clearly, so rather than trying to fight like he usually does, he just lets Wakatoshi hate fuck him without any preparation, he lets Wakatoshi choke him until he passes out, he lets Wakatoshi grip him so hard bruises are left all over his porcelain skin.

He was worthless, so he let himself be treated as such. Nobody was going to save him, nobody cared enough to.

Satori blacked out.


	2. chapitre deux

Eita knew something was wrong when Satori didn’t respond to his texts immediately- he’d always had troubles sleeping and woke up easily- so where the fuck was the redhead? 

He took his phone out of his pocket again, sending his seventh text in the last thirty minutes. They were supposed to meet up, Eita and Satori were going to go to a friend’s house, and they were due there in twelve minutes.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. Should he just go to Koushi and Tooru’s place, or should he go check on Satori?

It was an easy decision, really, and sprinting to Satori and Wakatoshi’s house was easier than he thought it would be. He rang the doorbell in time with the beat of his heart, speeding ever faster as the feeling of dread he held grew with each clash of his shoes on the broken pavement beneath him.

Nobody came to the door, however, and Eita took this as his cue to grab the spare key and let himself in. Something was wrong, he knew it, he just hoped Satori was safe.

With every step he took inside the house he realized that no, Satori was not safe, that he never truly had been. Eita realized now that the hyper cleanliness of their home was due to the events that took place there- blood droplets led him to the bedroom, door ajar.

The sight in front of Eita made him want to vomit. There he was, his best friend, covered in blood and bruises and half-wearing shredded clothes, pants discarded on the floor. He was hanging halfway off of the messy bed, hands tied to the point they were beginning to turn purple. 

“Sato? Babe? What happened?”

Eita set to work untying Satori, putting a blanket over the top of him so he would be less embarrassed. 

“Satori?”

It hit semi like a truck just then- his best friend was skinnier and paler than ever before, eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. He could count each and every one of his ribs and vertebrae if he so desired, which he didn’t.

He checked for Satori’s pulse, panicking, before realizing it was still there. He sent Koushi a quick text, telling him that he and Satori couldn’t make it, that something had come up, and to have fun with the others. He knew that had he texted Tsutomu or Atsumu his own panic would intensify, as they were both the type to assault him with an endless barrage of questions. 

He didn’t wait for Koushi’s reply, rather, he hurried to the kitchen where he found a broken glass on the floor, sweeping it up quickly. He grabbed a towel and wetted it with as cold of water as possible before making his way back to Satori, determined to wake him and help clean his wounds.

The feeling of the towel on the back of his neck woke Satori, who shot up as quickly as possible, eyes wide and shaking. He flinched away from Eita’s touch, something he had never done before.

“Eita?”

“Sato! You’re awake. Let’s get you into a warm bath.”

With very little protest, Satori allowed himself to be led to his own bathroom, blanket still wrapped around his body. 

“I’m helping you. Climb in.”

Eita’s touch was delicate as he bathed Satori, taking extra care around his bruises. Delicate was something Satori was not used to, something he only ever received from Eita and their other friends- and even then, some of them were rough with him.

“Babes, you have to tell me what happened eventually. Also, you’re staying at Koushi’s place or mine tonight. No arguments.”

Satori nodded, not refusing to speak but finding himself utterly unable to, something that happened to him frequently and had always infuriated Wakatoshi.

It never infuriated Eita. He always seemed to understand. 


	3. chapitre trois

Satori was worthless. He knew it, Wakatoshi knew it, so many people fucking knew it yet Eita and Koushi and Tooru and Tsutomu and the others refused to accept it as the fact it was.

He was worthless and pathetic and weak and he didn’t deserve to live but he didn’t earn the right to die, either. Satori knew that he was too terrible a person to choose to die on his own terms, that he was created to suffer, that his sole purpose in life was to be a walking punching bag, ready for any form of assault. 

It always happened that way, he gave his all to someone or something only for it to end up killing him slowly. That’s why he was so terrified of Eita- Wakatoshi had been as gentle as Eita for years, before Satori had left Japan. Who was to say that Eita wouldn’t turn on him, just like everyone else? That their other friends wouldn’t?

Even still, Satori clung onto Eita as if he were the oxygen he was allotted, the water he was permissed, the food he had to earn.

Eita was everything Satori had once hoped for in his life: someone who loved unconditionally without being afraid of the love he gave, someone who cared deeply without regret, someone who didn’t despise their very existence. Eita was everything Satori wanted to be but everything he knew he didn’t deserve.

He deserved what Wakatoshi did to him, he deserved what his parents did to him, he deserved what his college roommate did to him, he deserved what that random stranger did to him in the McDonald’s bathroom.

He deserved all of the pain and heartache sent his way because he was the stress toy from everyone he was near. He had never been the therapist friend, but rather the tools the therapist gives that end up being misused in the end regardless.

Satori slept at Eita’s that night, his phone having been confiscated and turned off. He feared for Eita’s safety above his own, he always had, so the thought of Wakatoshi showing up at random haunted him through the night and didn’t let him tire, let alone sleep.

He picked at the skin on his knuckles, the scabs from where he punched the door days previous peeling off, allowing blood to flow freely. He chewed at the skin around his nails next, before tugging at his eyebrows and pulling the hairs from there. He matched his fingers up with the prints left on his body, he yanked at his hair, ripping out a chunk all at once.

He did all of this and he woke Eita by accident, panic beginning to set in as the grey-haired male stared at him in horror before wiping the look off of his face; Satori had done it, scared away the person who meant most to him, all because he was too weak to handle his own thoughts. 

He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless, nothing more than a toy, a freak, a monster a-

“SATORI. STOP IT.”

He looked up at Eita with fear in his eyes- it had been years since he last heard Eita scream- before realizing that he had scratched a sizeable mark on the inside of his wrist in his state of panic.

He had lost grip of reality yet again, not realizing that anything around him was real, not sure if he himself was real. He had scared Eita for sure this time, there was no turning back, his best friend would kick him out and say he’d never want to see him again.

Or worse, or maybe better yet, he would turn into Eita’s plaything as well. Would that be a curse or a blessing? He would still get to be near the only person he had ever loved more than Wakatoshi? Satori thought he could handle it if Eita wanted to treat him like the garbage he truly is, like the dirt Wakatoshi had compared him too, but Eita snapped him out of his thoughts yet again when he began cleaning the wounds Satori had created and the ones he had reopened. 

Satori winced, and Eita did the same. 

“I’m sorry Sato, babes, but this is obviously going to hurt. It has to be done, though.”

Though Eita was hurting him, Satori thought, this pain was like nothing he had experienced before. This pain was gentle, this pain was followed by a kiss to each of his bandaged wounds, this pain brought a soft kiss to his hairline. 

This pain was filled with love, true love, tender and delicate and caring, unlike the love Satori knew.

This is what love feels like.


	4. chapitre quatre

In the Greek language there are seven different terms for the different types of love.  _ Eros,  _ romantic love, was something Satori once thought he had with Wakatoshi.  _ Philia  _ is the term for authentic friendly love- something he felt when near Tooru, Koushi, Tsutomu, Atsumu, Kenjiro, and Shinsuke.

_ Ludus  _ is a flirtatious love, something that Satori had for a short while and doubted he would ever have again.  _ Storge  _ is unconditional, familial love, something only his brother and sister had ever shown him to the fullest extent. Self-love is  _ philauta _ , something Satori had truly never felt. 

Satori had eaten flowers when he was younger, hoping that he could be even a quarter as pretty as he thought them to be. That never happened of course, but that didn’t stop him from trying and it doesn’t stop him now when he orders things with edible flowers in them- he still secretly hopes to feel even a tiny percentage of the beauty he equated with them.

_ Pragma _ is love between companions. It is a commitment in and of itself, one much different than any other love.

And the love he felt with Eita,  _ agápe _ , an empathetic universal love. This is possibly the purest form of love, the unwavering kind, the kind that doesn’t necessarily mean being in love but the kind that binds soulmates who have found each other.

Satori believed in soulmates, but he also believed in having several of them, and he believed in never finding them or only a couple of them. At one time, he had been naive enough to believe Wakatoshi was his romantic soulmate, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

One thing was sure to Satori now, however. Eita is one of his soulmates, and he can’t let any harm come to him.

Eita had been caring for him for the last week, hiding him from Wakatoshi yet not forcing him to talk. He never left his apartment, demanding that Satori was more important.

Never had Satori felt important, let enough important enough to call into work and even cancel a gig, but he let Eita do so nonetheless, knowing that he wouldn’t get his way.

All of this being said, however, Satori found himself missing Wakatoshi, longing for his touch and the warmth of the rare hugs he got. He wanted to see Wakatoshi’s smile again, no matter the intention behind it, desperate for any form of affection to be held within his gaze.

Eita had to return to work today. 


	5. chapitre cinq

Eita knew it was risky leaving Satori alone, he was even tempted to ask one of their friends to stay with him, but none of them knew exactly what had happened and he wouldn’t be the one to tell them. It wasn’t like he knew the whole story, anyways. 

He bounced his leg through his whole shift, he was restless at that night’s practice. By the time he returned he was a bundle of nerves, desperate to ensure Satori’s safety.

He unlocked the door to his apartment.

It was empty.


	6. chapitre six

Satori’s home was cold. 

It was cold and empty and there was glass all over the floor, his and Wakatoshi’s engagement photos thrown across the room, frames shattered. There were empty liquor bottles all over the counter, the home was a mess for sure yet still it was so fucking empty. 

It was empty because Wakatoshi was nowhere to be found, not that he spent much time here anyways. Satori made his way to the bedroom they shared, sitting on the bed with his knees to his chest.

The sheets were a mess. Wakatoshi sleeps soundly and rarely moves.

The room smells like a mix of cheap cologne and cigarettes.

Someone else was here. 

Someone else slept in this bed.

Someone else slept with his Wakatoshi.

Satori wept.

He stayed curled in his little ball on the bed, on his side that was stolen, and wept for hours. He cried and cried until his eyes could provide no more tears. 

He fell asleep in the crumpled sheets, and he waited.

He waited for Wakatoshi.

Satori waited, drifting in and out of sleep, while Eita worried. He knew he shouldn’t have let Satori alone, he knew that he probably went back to Wakatoshi. He’d done it several times, back when he used to tell Eita everything (or so Eita thought). Satori used to come to Eita’s apartment and cry and tell him that Wakatoshi had raised his voice at him, that he felt like he would never be good enough for Wakatoshi, that he scared a child just by existing and that’s why he shaved his head but that just made it worse.

He cried when he saw a dead bird on the side of the street, when his basil plant died, when a book he really liked ended.

That was the Satori who Eita knew. Kind and gentle and caring, though perhaps a bit too much. Eita also knew that Satori had a tendency to give much of himself, to let himself be damaged if for the sake of helping others.

Perhaps Satori had given too much this time. He was now truly and utterly broken beyond repair, going from the outgoing boy on the court, singing songs and teasing opponents so he would have more fun, to a quiet and reserved shell of what used to be. 

Eita didn’t know this, but he was completely and utterly correct in his assumptions.


	7. chapitre sept

“So you’ve finally decided to come crawling back, eh?”

Satori sat up, careful not to let too much fear show on his face. 

“Yes. I’m sorry for leaving without permission, Wakatoshi-kun.”

Satori’s voice was hollow, the words falling from his mouth without a second thought.

He was in love. He was in love and he was willing to give any and all of himself to Wakatoshi, to let him know that he would always be there for him in any way he needed.

“That’s a good boy, knowing when to apologize. Surely you know you’ll be punished, though?”

Satori gulped and nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

There it was. Wakatoshi’s smile. Satori tried to ignore the sinister intentions behind that smile, tried to ignore the mixture of hunger and hatred in his fiance’s eyes.

Wakatoshi isn’t evil. Satori refuses to believe otherwise. Satori remembers when Wakatoshi found a cat and nursed it back to health. He remembers when he’d also grieved the loss of Satori’s basil plant. He remembered when Wakatoshi used to pepper his face in thousands of tiny kisses. He remembered when Wakatoshi used to make him cocoa, meeting him on the roof of his parent’s house at 3am to watch the stars.

He remembered Wakatoshi.

He doesn’t know who this man is.

Satori doesn’t know who this man is and he is so utterly terrified of him, yet he is so deeply in love with him.

_ Sumimasen, Eita. Anata ga watashi o mamoritakatta no wa shitte imasu. _

Satori took a deep breath as rough hands gripped him in every way they were never intended to, bruising him and scuffing the bruises he already had. He lay there, limp, letting what happens happen.

_ Sayōnara, watashi no rakuen. _

_ Sayōnara, Semi Eita.  _


	8. chapitre huit

Something was more wrong than last time. It was as if the last strings on Eita’s heart snapped, tired after having been strummed a few times too many, giving in before he had the chance to replace them. The more tension that was added, the easier it was for them to break.

He got a chill and he felt that last one pop. He sank to his knees, sobbing, unsure of why he had been heartbroken but he was pretty sure it had something to do with Satori.

He desperately wanted to go for him, to find him, but Eita knew that Wakatoshi had to be home right now, he knew that things would only worsen if he showed up at a time like this.

He just hoped he would see Satori again.


	9. chapitre neuf

Satori was no longer scared. He had accepted his fate long ago, and just now he let loose the finals strands of his individuality.

He would never see his friends, his brother, or his sister again. Of that much he was sure.

No, he would remain locked in this house until he withered away or until Wakatoshi finally had enough and put him out of his misery, like an old farm dog.

He would be a good housewife for Wakatoshi. He would do everything he asked. He would give in completely.

He was no longer a shell of what once was. He was a new person.

He wore his bruises and wounds openly, as Wakatoshi liked to see his handiwork. Every night, sometimes several times, he would be an obedient plaything for Wakatoshi, the man he had once given his all to.

Now Satori gave his all in a different way.

Satori gave his life, he gave everything he ever held dear, for Wakatoshi. Wakatoshi said he loved him, afterall.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to find true love. Maybe, just maybe, true love was something that would always tease him, leave a ghost of a kiss on his cheek, before drifting away as though it had never been there in the first place.

Perhaps Satori’s sole purpose was to suffer, not just in this life but lives previous and lives future. 

Satori decided that he was fated to live in pain, that it was almost natural for some people to exist in a constant cycle of never getting what they wanted. It was as though he had been and will be hundreds of different people, all destined to lose the things they hold dearest at some point or another.

Is it fair for Satori to give up, though? What if one of his lives was fated to be his salvation? What if one of his lives will be something truly amazing, perhaps even ethereal?

What if?

Satori is not scared anymore, he is terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is largely based on something i experienced, down to the basil plant.
> 
> that being said, i decided that satori does not get to leave.


End file.
